


The Ground Underfoot is Colder Here

by sonnets_and_snowdrops



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Pre-Canon, Think Piece, it's ~introspective~ anyway, or - Freeform, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonnets_and_snowdrops/pseuds/sonnets_and_snowdrops
Summary: Finding the place where Hitsugaya Tōshirō lived was an easy matter. Energy sparked from the little, wooden home, and Jūshirō had followed it like a beacon. He'd known developing souls to leak reiatsu before, but never like this.He's powerful,Jūshirō remarks to himself.Especially for one so young.Jūshirō has always been hopeful by nature, but when he truly chooses to be realistic, he understands that there probably isn't very much he can do for the boy. Still, he feels he needs to try. Trying, after all, is better than doing nothing - especially if he truly can make a small shred of difference.
Relationships: (but lbr I'm never gonna write canon compliant content where ShunUki isn't a thing), (if ya squint), Hitsugaya Toushirou & Ukitake Juushirou, Kyouraku Shunsui/Ukitake Juushirou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63
Collections: The Seireitei Server Birthday Gift Exchange 2020





	The Ground Underfoot is Colder Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geishaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geishaaa/gifts).



He hasn't set foot in the West Rukongai in years. As a lieutenant, he used to conduct drills and exercises in Hokutan, on the wooded slopes of Mt. Koifushi, but duties of that kind have been long since delegated to Kaien, and Jūshirō has only rarely had cause to venture outside of the Seireitei in recent years. 

Junrinan is, he decides as he glances about and takes in the small, sturdy houses, the smiling men hard at their work, the clean, strong women hanging laundry on clotheslines and toting baskets of fresh grain and fish, and the laughing children whose sandals slap loudly upon the packed dirt of the road, a very nice district indeed. He's glad to learn as much, because that can only bode well for the boy. If the rumors that Jūshirō has heard are to be believed, then the boy will need every scrap of kindness, goodness, and light that comes his way. 

Up ahead, a group of children crouch together in the street. They're laughing, and exclaiming joyously at something that Jūshirō can't quite make out from so far away. He moves closer, and when he understands which game the children are playing, his lips lift in a smile. "Hello!" Jūshirō calls, and he raises a hand in greeting. 

Instantly, all of the children cease their shouting, and five pairs of young eyes go wide. Jūshirō lowers his hand, crosses to the silently staring group of children, and kneels beside the youngest one, a tiny girl with braided hair and breadcrumbs on her chin. "I wanted to ask if I could play, too," he says, with another smile. "This is one of my best friend's favorite games, you see. May I have a turn?" 

The tiny girl nods, and a few breadcrumbs drop from her little chin onto the front of her shirt. "I didn't know grown-ups liked playing games," she says.

"I think most grown-ups would say that they like playing games quite a lot," Jūshirō answers her, "if they looked inside their hearts and truly thought about it." He squints into the center of the circle and takes stock of the ground before him, trying his best to calculate angles, leverage, and necessary momentum. "The trouble is, a lot of grown-ups like being serious."

"Are you a Captain?" a tall boy from across the circle cuts in. 

Jūshirō grins. "I certainly am," he says. "Well spotted, my friend!" 

The boy's expression shifts from awe to curiosity to plain, stark confusion, all in the space of just a few heartbeats. "That means your job is really important," the boy says slowly. "Doesn't that mean that you should be serious? How come you have time for games?" 

Jūshirō steadily meets the boy's eyes. "That's a very good question," he says. "I've never thought about it before." He pauses, trying his best to find an answer, both for the boy's sake and for his own. "I think," he finally says, "that I like to make time for games so that there's room in my heart for seriousness later. If I were serious all the time, I think I'd find it difficult to do my job well. I'd be much too tired, and I can't imagine I'd be very happy." 

With that, Jūshirō extends one graceful hand, reaches into the circle, and takes up the brightly colored spinning top. He twists his fingers just so, and then he lets the top go, and it whirls around and around and around in circles. The tiny girl with braided hair claps her hands and lets out an excited shriek, and the other children soon follow suit. Jūshirō can't help but laugh in his own delight; the top is spinning beautifully, and he's proud of himself.

After nearly a full minute of turning about on its axis, the top slows, and then wobbles, and then falls to the dust again. Jūshirō stands up again, still grinning brightly. "That was great fun," he tells the children. "Thank you for letting me play."

"Are you going away now?" a small boy asks, his brown eyes large and eager.

"He probably has important Captain stuff to do," one of the older-looking girls says. "He wouldn't come here just for fun. Captains never leave the Seireitei unless they really need to." The girl glances to Jūshirō, and then, as if she's belatedly realized how her words might sound to a real, live Captain, her cheeks flush scarlet and her gaze drops to the ground. "That's what my dad says, anyway," she mumbles.

Jūshirō just shakes his head, and though his smile is just a touch less bright than it was moments before, it is still present, and Jūshirō's heart is still light. "It's all right," Jūshirō says. "Your father sounds like a very observant person." 

"So you didn't come just to play with us?" the brown-eyed boy says.

"He's got serious stuff to do," the taller boy explains. "That's why he stopped to play spinning tops with us for a second. So he'd have room for the serious stuff he has to go do." He looks to Jūshirō, his expression eager. "Right, Captain? Sir?" 

"That's exactly right," Jūshirō tells him. He scans the busy street, like a person looking for some indication of which direction he should go, and then he frowns, as if he hasn't found anything useful. "If you don't mind," he says, turning back to the group of children, "I could use your help. You don't happen to know which way a boy named Hitsugaya lives, do you? Hitsugaya Tōshirō?"

As soon as Jūshirō speaks the name, the children all fall silent again. The older girl breaks the silence first, wrinkling her nose and scowling as she speaks. "We don't play with him," she tells Jūshirō firmly. 

At that, Jūshirō's face falls in earnest.  _ So, then _ , he thinks. _ The rumors are true after all. _

"You wanna talk about someone who's too serious?" the tall boy says. "That's Hitsugaya. He doesn't know how to have fun at all."

"He's scary," says the tiny girl with braids, her voice quiet.

"He used to play spinning tops with us sometimes," the older girl says, "but we don't let him anymore." She peers up at Jūshirō, her brow furrowed, her jaw set. "If you have stuff to do with Hitsugaya, then maybe we shouldn't let you play with us anymore, either." 

"Do you ever wonder," Jūshirō asks, turning his steady gaze to the girl, "whether a person like Hitsugaya Tōshirō might act so serious and seem so scary because he needs friends? Do you ever wonder whether he might seem less scary if you simply get to know him?" 

The girl shakes her head. "We don't play with him," she says again.

"I see," Jūshirō says quietly. He takes care to glance about the circle, and to meet the eyes of each child present. Jūshirō has never been skilled at hiding the way that he feels, and he's aware that the children will see that they've made him sad. And indeed, his heart aches - for these children, and for Hitsugaya Tōshirō, and for another little boy, a little boy from long ago, who also felt very, very alone for a long, long time. 

When he meets the eyes of the tall boy, the one who listened so well to Jūshirō's words about seriousness and play, Jūshirō pauses. "Will you please tell me where he lives?" Jūshirō says. "I'm sure I can find him on my own, if I need to. But it'll be easier if I have your help." 

The tall boy won't meet Jūshirō's gaze at first, but as moments pass, his resolve seems to weaken. He nods his shaggy head, and then points down the road. "That way," he says. "Almost the last left turn, but not the very last left turn. The one right before the last one. If you hit the trees, you've gone too far." 

Jūshirō's face softens, and some of the sadness melts away from his expression. "Thank you," he tells the tall boy. He straightens up to his full height, and takes one more look around the circle of children. "Take care, " he says to them. "My best to you, and to those you love." And with that, he begins to walk away, striding with ease down the packed-dirt road and leaving the children to their spinning top once more.

***

Even the ground underfoot is colder here. 

A small part of Jūshirō expected as much, but the uncanny chill that rises up through the bottoms of his feet still makes something within him feel uneasy.

He had never needed the children's help with directions. Finding the place where Hitsugaya Tōshirō lived was an easy matter. Energy sparked from the little, wooden home, and Jūshirō had followed it like a beacon. He'd known developing souls to leak reiatsu before, but never like this.  _ He's powerful,  _ Jūshirō remarks to himself.  _ Especially for one so young. _

But therein, too, lies the crux of the problem. Hitsugaya Tōshirō is a boy, and nothing more. Boys, Jūshirō knows, fare much better when they feel welcomed by their peers. What Jūshirō learned from the children playing in the street confirmed his greatest fears: that Hitsugaya Tōshirō was regarded as strange, even scary. If he had any friends at all, they were bound to be few and far between. 

Jūshirō has always been hopeful by nature, but when he truly chooses to be realistic, he understands that there probably isn't very much he can do for the boy. Still, he feels he needs to try. Trying is better than doing nothing at all, especially if he truly can make a small shred of difference.  _ Somehow… _

The house is small and quiet, but it is sturdy, and it is clean. No one has come or gone, and nothing within has stirred. Jūshirō glances behind him, and then to his left, and then to his right, and, seeing no one, he seats himself on the ground. He's hidden behind a broad, old tree, and he's keeping a very, very close rein on his own reiatsu, just in case. If the boy truly has promise, as both Kaien and Shunsui have implied, then it won't do for a Captain to be seen lurking near his home before he's so much as taken the Academy entrance exam. The boy might well need some special looking after, but Jūshirō would hate for undue rumors about favoritism - or, gods forbid, foul play and cheating - to start circulating once the boy begins his classes. They wouldn't be true, and they certainly would do more harm than good to his reputation.

Nearly an hour passes. Jūshirō is content, if a bit cold. The boy is inside, and Jūshirō is certain of as much, but if the flow of his reiatsu and the timbre of his energy are any reasonable indication, he is asleep, and has been since Jūshirō arrived. He smiles to himself, and resolves to tell this to Shunsui, and perhaps to Captain Shiba, too.  _ He's incredibly strong, and he takes naps in the middle of the day,  _ Jūshirō will say.  _ Now, who does that remind me of? _

The sun has coasted well past its zenith by the time Jūshirō spots a small, hunched figure upon the road. It is a woman, small, thin, and with a kind face. She carries a pack upon her back, and a wooden box in her wrinkled hands. From the way she walks, Jūshirō can tell that she is weary, but for all that, she is smiling. 

She approaches the house. It takes time for her to make her way down the path and towards her destination, but she seems to pay her struggle little mind. Jūshirō can't help but feel a flash of pride for the old woman; she has grit, and she knows what it is to persevere. 

Abruptly, a flash of motion appears at the door. Jūshirō sits bolt upright, and he can feel himself leaning forward to get a better look.  _ This is the boy, _ he knows.  _ This is Hitsugaya Tōshirō. _

The first thing Jūshirō notices about Hitsugaya Tōshirō is that, despite Jūshirō's worries, the boy does know how to smile. He bursts out of the house, grinning widely. "Grandma!" he calls, in a voice that is clear and strong. "I'm so glad you're back! It's later than you said it would be. Did you run into any problems?"

The old woman shakes her head. "My bones aren't as young as they used to be," she tells him. "We both know that." The boy looks like he's about to reply, but before he can, the old woman offers a kind, crinkly smile, and then extends her hands forward. "These are for you," she says. "I saw Mitsu-san making them fresh at the marketplace, and I couldn't resist."

Hitsugaya Tōshirō takes the box, and cracks open the lid. His big, bright eyes grow bigger and brighter, and Jūshirō feels a jolt of extraordinary clarity. He watches, and he can't help but smile as Hitsugaya Tōshirō reaches inside the box, takes up a handful of small, oblong objects, and pops them all into his mouth.  _ Amanattō,  _ Jūshirō sees now, small sweets made from beans that are simmered and sugar-coated and dried, and that still taste of childhood to Jūshirō. Indeed, despite himself, Jūshirō can't help but think once again of another young boy, another strange boy with very few friends, whose big, bright eyes used to shine like that at the sight of sweets - and indeed, they still do more often than not, never mind that the boy has long since become a man. 

_ If nothing else,  _ Jūshirō supposes,  _ perhaps I can try to bring him sweets now and again. _

Jūshirō stays here for a time, watching as Hitsugaya Tōshirōtakes the pack from his grandmother's back, and then ushers her into the house. The door closes, and before too long, a small, friendly plume of cookfire smoke begins to rise from the hole in the roof of the home, and the smell of grilling fish wafts through the chilly, pre-twilight air. Still, Jūshirō sits, watching, wondering, wishing. He shivers, and he pulls his haori tighter about him. He regrets that he was unable to discover something to prove Kaien wrong, but Kaien's report, much to Jūshirō's chagrin, seems to have been exactly accurate. Captain Shiba's lieutenant was right, it seems. 

If something is to be done, it must be done soon, before the boy's power grows too vast and he begins to take an even greater toll on this place, and on those he loves. 

***

Ugendō isn't empty when Jūshirō returns. The windows glow with cheery candlelight, and he can hear voices from within, one brash and confident, and the other lazy, low, and slow. Jūshirō shakes his head affectionately, because he knows exactly who and what he'll find inside. 

Jūshirō slides the door open, and sure enough, Shunsui sprawls upon the ground, a cup of sake clutched in one calloused hand. Across from him sits Kaien, whose fingers dance along the rim of another sake cup, this one empty. Both of them glance to Jūshirō when he enters, Kaien sporting a big, goofy grin, and Shunsui favoring Jūshirō with a gentle smirk. 

"Long day, eh Taichō?" Kaien says, sidling sideways to make space for Jūshirō on the floor of his own home. "You're back late."

"That I am," Jūshirō agrees. A thought strikes him, and he glances, wide-eyed, to his lieutenant. "Forgive me," he says. "I left you all alone with this afternoon's kidō exercises, didn't I?" 

Kaien only shrugs. "I've handled the Squad without you before, Taichō. Today was a piece of cake."

"It completely slipped my mind," Jūshirō says. "I intended to return much, much earlier, but I lost track of time." 

"It must have been something pretty special," Shunsui drawls, "to make you lose track of time like that. I can count on one hand the number of times you've forgotten about the Squad's kidō drills." 

"It's true," Jūshirō admits quietly. "You know me well, my friend. I was distracted. I was very distracted, in fact." He glances to Kaien, and then to Shunsui, and then to the two jugs of sake that sit squarely between them. "Is there any tea?"

"In the corner," Kaien says. "It's something new. Some herbal blend. My sister's recommendation, so give it a shot at your own peril, Taichō." 

Jūshirō can only smile softly at that. "Your sister's taste is novel if nothing else," he says. "Has it steeped long enough?" 

"I put it on a few minutes ago when I felt you cross back into the Thirteenth. You should be good to pour it out and call it a day." 

"Thank you," Jūshirō says. He rises again, and as he crosses to the teapot and begins to pour himself a cup, it occurs to him that he feels very, very tired. He takes up the teacup in his long-fingered hands, and he can't help the grateful sigh that escapes him when he feels the warmth that it brings. 

"...you okay, Taichō?" comes Kaien's voice. "Is your body holding up all right?"

"He's fine," Shunsui interjects, before Jūshirō has even had the chance to turn around again, let alone speak for himself. Jūshirō opens his mouth to protest, but once again, Shunsui is too quick for him. "He's not sick. He's just cold." 

Jūshirō does manage to turn around now, and he isn't surprised by the knowing gleam in his best friend's eyes. "You can tell from all the way over there?" 

Shunsui gives a small, idle shrug. "I can see it in your shoulders," he says. "Your jaw. Your hands. You're an open book, Jū-chan. You always have been." 

"I suppose that's true," Jūshirō sighs, crossing back again and seating himself between his lieutenant and his oldest friend. He falls to silence for a few moments, sipping at his tea - which, he concludes, is a little bit strong for his liking, but which could be uniquely delicious if it were watered down just a little, or if it were augmented with a spoonful of honey. He looks to Kaien, and then to Shunsui, and then he sets his tea to the side and folds his cold hands in his lap. "I went to Junrinan today," he says.

Kaien frowns. "Junrinan?" he asks. "Why?"

Shunsui's steely gaze, however, becomes immediately sharp with understanding. "Did the kid meet your expectations?"

"I'm afraid so," Jūshirō answers. He looks to Kaien, with something almost like an apology in his eyes. "The boy you mentioned in passing," he explains. "The boy that Captain Shiba's lieutenant found in the Rukongai. I'm sure you didn't think much of it when you spoke of him to me, but my mind and my heart became too restless. I had to see for myself." 

"...oh," Kaien says. He sticks a hand behind his head and gnaws at his lip, clearly thinking hard about something. "What was there to be restless about?" he finally asks. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Taichō. I know you care about everyone a hell of a lot, and I know you get invested in people really quickly. But what's different about this kid?" 

"He's leaking reiatsu," Shunsui says. "Matsumoto-fukutaichō made that pretty clear."

"Plenty of people leak reiatsu," Kaien counters. "I used to, a little, before I knew how to handle my shit."

"So did I," Shunsui says. "But not like this kid, if Matsumoto clocked the situation right. And," he adds, his words crystal clear and his tone undeniably pointed, "not like Jū-chan."

Jūshirō takes up his teacup once more. He sips, and he observes that it's become sweeter as it's hit the air and begun to breathe, but he's still not convinced that he's truly enjoying its flavor. He looks to Kaien, and then to Shunsui, and then back to Kaien once more. "It's true," he says. "When I was about Hitsugaya Tōshirō's age, I… created a thunderstorm in my sister's bedroom, which was right next to mine." He closes his eyes, as if doing so could keep the memory from rushing back in surges and swells and torrents, but deep inside, Jūshirō knows that no wave can truly be contained; it can only break. "Her bedroom was completely flooded by the time I awoke. She was cold, shivering. I was, too, but that was par for the course, and I sensed that my own life was never in any danger. But my sister… if lightning had struck at the wrong time, or in the wrong place... " He shakes his head, and forces himself to open his eyes again. "You know better than most what a seastorm inside the soul can do to those around them," he tells Kaien. "And you," he says to Shunsui, "know how scary it can be when you see your own potential to hurt your friends and your family." He clutches tight to the teacup in his hands, at a loss. "I don't want that for Hitsugaya Tōshirō," he says, his voice almost breaking with the desperation he feels. "He's extraordinary, in the purest sense of the word. That much is clear. But I want him to feel happy, too. If he chooses to become a Shinigami, like Matsumoto-fukutaichō believes he should, then I don't want him to move forward with fear in his heart. I want him to move forward with hope." 

With that, Jūshirō lets out a shaking sigh, and relaxes his grip on the poor, poor teacup that he holds. His knuckles are white with tension, but, to his mild satisfaction, his hands are not cold anymore. 

"The kid's got hair like yours, too," Shunsui says softly. "You know I've never been a big believer in fate, Jū-chan. But maybe, just this once, we've got ourselves a little exception." 

The suggestion is silly, of course, but even so, something inside Jūshirō wants to believe that it might be true. "Do you really think so?" Jūshirō asks his friend.

"Do you know how he writes his name?" Kaien cuts in.

Jūshirō blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"His name," Kaien repeats. "His given name. Just because, on top of the hair thing, you're both  _ Shirō _ , too. That alone would be enough, but I wondered if you wrote it the same." 

"Not likely," Jūshirō muses, though the thought intrigues him. "My given name comes from my family's traditions. We've always named our eldest sons like this. It's tied directly to numbers, you see - no matter how lucky or unlucky those numbers might be."

Kaien shrugs. "Oh, well," he says. "It was worth a shot."

"True enough, Shiba-kun," Shunsui agrees. "It's pretty obvious you're going to keep an eye on the kid, Jū-chan. I can just about see it now… you'll dote on the kid for reasons he'll never know, but you'll pass it off as something simple, something fun."

Kaien's bright smile flashes at that. "Something about a couple of Shirō-chans sticking together!" he says, grinning stupidly at his Captain. "That sounds just like you, Taichō!" 

"That's  _ terrible, _ " Shunsui exclaims. "And it's true! I can practically hear you saying that to the poor kid…!" 

Jūshirō cringes, but he can feel his own lips lifting in a smile, too. "Come now, you two," he says. "I don't think I'd ever go quite so far as that!" But even as he speaks, he can feel himself faltering. He glances back and forth between his lieutenant and his best friend, not quite sure what to make of their delighted, half-drunken expressions. "...would I ?" 

***

There's a guest instructor for their kidō lecture today.

Tōshirō doesn't see much point to that. Though, in fairness, he's never seen much point to including lectures on kidō in the curriculum in the first place. He does his reading, and the books are very clear. If his classmates need lectures on top of readings in order to cement their understanding of these basic concepts, then Tōshirō isn't sure he feels very optimistic about their potential to become skilled, successful, full-fledged Shinigami. 

A figure strides through the door of the lecture hall. He is tall and thin, and his white hair is long, and he dons the crisp mantle of a Captain's haori. At that, Tōshirō sits up a little straighter. It's rare to engage with Captains in any capacity while one is still a first-year student, and Tōshirō doesn't want to risk losing any advantage, no matter how small. 

The Captain begins by taking roll. He speaks each name in a voice that is rich and confident, but still inexplicably gentle. As each student answers, the Captain smiles, nods his white head, and gives a small greeting of some kind. It takes time, and Tōshirō feels himself growing impatient. This man might be a Captain, but he clearly doesn't understand that his pleasantries are eating into time that is supposed to be designated for learning.

Tōshirō's name comes exactly when Tōshirō knows it will. "Present," he answers, his unchanged boy's voice ringing like an adolescent bell through the lecture hall. His face is expressionless, even disinterested.

He doesn't know how to react when the Captain's pale face breaks into a grin. "It's wonderful to meet you!" he says, with far more enthusiasm than Tōshirō thinks is warranted. "A fellow  _ Shirō,  _ is it? What a pleasant surprise!" 

Tōshirō's mouth falls open, but he can't seem to find words. "I… guess," he manages, before catching himself and belatedly adding, "...sir." 

But the Captain - who, Tōshirō realizes now, can only be Ukitake Jūshirō, Captain of the Thirteenth Division - has already moved on, calling the next student's name and expressing how pleased he is that she's decided to study at the Academy.

Tōshirō slumps down in his seat again and crosses his arms. He watches the man, the Captain, Ukitake Jūshirō, and furrows his brow.  _ What's his deal?  _ Tōshirō wonders.  _ Why did he look so excited to see me?  _ The furrow between his brow deepens.  _ I hope I didn't do anything wrong. _

Soon enough, the roll call is over. Captain Ukitake tucks away his papers, and then steps to the podium. He clears his throat, and then he clears it again, and then he coughs briefly before clearing his throat one, final time and turning a new smile on the eager class before him. "Thank you for your patience," he says, "and for allowing me my little quirks. I really would like to get to know each and every one of you, if I can. That will take time, but I like to think that it will be time well spent." 

Just like that, Captain Ukitake's gaze snaps back to Tōshirō. Tōshirō feels his cheeks reddening, but he can't look away. The Captain's gaze is too earnest, and far, far too kind for that. "It's just a feeling I have, I suppose," he says. "After all, this is only the very beginning." 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had for a little while now - and The Seireitei's birthday gift exchange finally (finally!!) gave me a good excuse to get it down on paper.
> 
> I've got a few thoughts about potential companion pieces to his, all of which have to do with Hitsugaya's rapid rise through the ranks Gōtei. If you like this piece, and you'd be interested in reading similar pieces in the future, please let me know! (If it makes a difference, at least one will prolly feature Isshin "Big Dad Energy" Shiba/Kurosaki. He's just. Such a good dude, y'all.)
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading. And thanks a billion times over to Geishaaa for suggesting the prompt that inspired this fic!!
> 
> **Also! I *think* the timing of this lines up in a canon compliant way? I straight-up didn't have time to do the research, I'll admit. If it turns out that Kaien couldn't have been Ukitake's lieutenant during all of these myriad shenanigans, then... idk. Think of Kaien as a physical manifestation of a memory or smth. Yaboi is sleepy and that's all they've got for now fam ahahaha <3


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